Bitterness and Hope
by Enchantable
Summary: Sometimes one must chase their stars to find the way home.


**Okay this is an anonymous request fic from an email I got asking for some dramatic Diana/Adam angst and hurt/comfort. I was happy to oblige because they are tied with jake/cassie as my favorite Secret Circle pairing. And when I came here and saw how there are no fics of just them, I got right on it.**

**So before the fic let me explain that this takes place six months down the road. So everyone's finding their niche and Jake's an established member of the Circle.**

* * *

When Adam Conant kisses Cassie Blake all he tastes is bitterness.

The weight of destiny and star crossed lovers is heavy on both their shoulders but in some desperately small part of him he hopes that when he kisses her sparks will go off and this will all be worth it. He hopes and prays until her lips press against his and the last shred of the dream seems to flitter away. She's all soft limbs and peach gloss and everything about this moment should be perfect.

Except it isn't.

It's so wrong it makes his head spin and by the time she pulls back the only thing he wants to do is drink so he can muddle the night together. Cassie lifts her head and when her eyes meet his the sadness in them is a poor consolation. This is wrong in every way except the fucked up fantasy that should have stayed in his father's head. When Cassie bites her lip softly and glances over at the house next door, Adam realizes that maybe Diana isn't the only casualty of this experiment.

"I am so sorry," he says and is surprised at how earnestly he means it, "I thought-"

"Me too," she agrees and her eyes dart back over.

"I don't think he's home," he says and is surprised at how he's suddenly itching to drive. He tells himself he just needs to clear his head but somehow he knows exactly where his car would wind up.

"I think she had plans as well," Cassie says evenly, her eyes meeting his.

Adam cannot help the smile that tugs at his lips. Cassie Blake is a very direct girl when she wants to be. The smile she gives in return is coy and despite the overwhelming knowledge that his destiny may not lay with her, Adam can acknowledge that she is very beautiful. The smile ebbs as she sighs softly and looks back at the Armstrong house.

"What did you tell him?" he asks.

"What did you tell Diana?" she replies.

"Nothing," Adam says.

Sadly it's the truth. His place has been filled with some odd combination of Melissa, Cassie, Holden and even Faye. For five years he'd spent almost every waking moment with Diana, and for the past three he'd spent most nights with her as well. And then six months ago she left and Adam cannot bring himself to lie and say there isn't a gaping hole in his life. On the bad days he blames his father for her going. On the average ones he blames Holden for giving her a reason not to come back. On the good days he can almost admit to himself that while they were involved, he was the one who let her go. But those days are few and far between, most of the time it's just easier to blame Melissa's cousin whose hand has no business being that low on Diana's back.

He still feels something when he sees them together, some sense of how wrong it is. That, of course, is immediately followed by guilt because he no longer has the right to feel anything about Diana's life. The fragile threads of the Circle are the only thing holding them together. They aren't friends, not anymore and Adam doubts he'll ever be able to be a friend to her if he has to watch her fall for someone else. It makes an alarming amount of sense why she walked away from him when she saw the way he looked at Cassie in those early days.

Adam likes to think that he wouldn't have cheated on her, he also likes to think she wouldn't think he'd do that. In some way he thinks her breaking up with him was a way to save them both a lot of heartache. But of course it hasn't worked out like that and though she is friends with Cassie, he still wants to punch Holden every time he smiles at Diana. Now in a final twist it seems that the Blake-Conant destiny will have to wait another generation if it is in fact a destiny at all and not the universe laughing at them.

And then as thought the universe has decided to kick him once more their phones ring in unison.

"It's Diana," Faye's voice comes through on his and he's distantly aware of Melissa's voice saying the same thing to Cassie, "we need the Circle."

He floors it to their hideout as Cassie redirects traffic in front of them. A ten minute drive is reduced to three and be barely remembers to turn the car off before they're both racing up the steps. Faye, Melissa and Jake are already there and Adam finds himself hard pressed not to freak out at the worry in Faye's eyes. Jake ignores them and says something to Melissa who nods and hurries out of the room. As she moves she reveals the sight that was previously hidden and he hears Cassie gasp, pressing a hand to her mouth in an effort not to be sick.

All Adam can see is Diana.

She's pale, her skin bathed in sweat. Someone, Faye probably, has thought to pull her chestnut locks back but the roots are darkened with it. It darkens the thin fabric of her tank top and glistens the skin that stretches between the hem and the top of her pants. Adam takes it in but his eyes are focused on the angry wound on her stomach and the thin veins of power that radiate outwards, as though the darkness is attempting to pull her into herself.

The only other color is the angry, broken skin of her wrists and ankles which are still bound to the bed.

Jake's standing over her. He barely glances at Cassie as he thumbs through the book in his hands, his eyes moving over the spell. Melissa comes into the room with bottles in her arms, like a little assistant. She sets them down and quickly begins to assemble them. Jake glances over and Melissa's hands begin to work faster in a silent response. The two of them have become eerily adept at working with each other, as though Nick's ghost has glued them together even though she was desperately in love and some part of Jake will always think he killed him.

"What happened?" Adam demands turning to Faye.

"We don't know," she replies, "we got here and she was like this."

"It's a draining spell," Jake speaks, closing his book and turning to them, "they're trying to drain her power."

"Why her?" Adam questions.

There are much more powerful witches in the Circle. Cassie has the blood of Blackwell in her veins, eerie dark power that turns the blonde girl into the stuff of nightmares. Melissa dreams in power, having forced her to move into the Armstrong home after her parents woke one morning to find their house covered in bright, rainbow colored flowers. There's no reason for them to go to Diana whose power has always been steady, like the pulse of a heart. Adam sees Jake's eyes drop and watches the older boy shift his weight. When his lips part, Adam realizes that he has another secret. It's not a surprise but Adam feels disappointed all the same. Then Diana gives a whimper and he strides up to the other witch.

"What is it?" he demands, "what aren't you telling us?"

"There's another Balcoin witch in the Circle," Jake says, his voice defensive and harsh. He winces at the tone, seeming to know that this is not the time or the place, "I thought it was Faye," he says, "but-"

"It's Diana," Adam finishes.

Diana, beautiful and straight laced Diana is a descendant of the Balcoin bloodline. Diana who sat and held Cassie's hand as the darkness roared within her, who refused to let any of them become the worst version of themselves. Who stood up to the elders, her father, even Isaac himself when he tried to convince Jake to come 'home' with him. She may not even be a Meade at all, through they all know their Circle has to have one. But all the questions seem to stick to the back of his throat as he looks at her laying there, her chest rising and falling in shallow little gasps.

Before he realizes what he's doing he's crossed the room to where she's laying. As he leans over her, he tries to see if she's changed in some way and he realizes that it's been an impossibly long time since he was this close to her. But she looks the same, from the dark half moons where her lashes press to her cheeks to the nearly invisible scar on her chin where she fell off her bike and scraped it as a little girl. He doesn't need to touch her to know she's got a fever, but when her head turns towards the coolness of his hand his heart clenches in an all too familiar way.

"How do we stop it?" he asks, his eyes rising to meet Jake's.

"There's a potion to close the wound and stop the spell," Jake says, "but she's been like this for-" he hesitates as though trying to decide how much to tell him, "for a while," he says finally.

"I've got the potion," Melissa states before the silence can swell up.

She picks up the bowl and comes over. The contents are still swirling inside the confines of the vessel as she sets it on the ground and heads back over to pick up a cup. Adam looks down at the dark purple stuff and tries not to wince at the smell. Melissa comes over to him and crouches down, handing him the cup she's brought. She looks apologetic and Adam wonders what's gone into the potion before deciding it might be better if he doesn't know. The potion stops swirling and he fills the cup with it and turns to Diana. He tries to ignore everyone watching and prays that Faye will have the sense not to say anything.

"Diana," he calls her name softly and though her brow creases she doesn't wake up, "Diana you've got to wake up," he urges, trying to keep his voice steady.

This is just a cold, he urges himself to think and God knows he's seen Diana when she has a cold. Or the flu. One good thing about having a drunk for a father is that it's very easy to have him call the school and tell them his son isn't coming in. He's taken care of Diana before, even though having a cold makes her sniffle and hide under her covers watching terrible tv. She's done the same for him, even though he's the one who knows how to make soup and take medicine at the proper times. Unwillingly a smile comes to his lips as he remembers a time when Diana attempted soup and then yanked it away, saying she didn't want him to get food poisoning in addition to the flu.

"Diana," he repeats, this time reaching out and touching her shoulder, "come on, wake up," This time she stirs more at the touch, her face turning towards the coolness of his skin. Her eyes slit open, only the creases in her skin tell him they're open at all, "hey, you've got to drink this but then you can go back to sleep alright?" he says, trying to make it sound as though this is just an every day occurrence.

He doesn't wait for her reply as he slides his hand up the back of her neck, cupping the base of her skull to guide her head up. He gets her up slowly, just enough so she can drink the contents of the cup without aggravating the wound on her stomach. Even though he's careful she still makes a sound of pain. He forces himself to hold her there, to guide the cup to her lips and carefully dribble the contents into her mouth. The potion is thick, like syrup, and he hopes that will make it clear this is medicine. That she isn't supposed to enjoy it.

She doesn't and the process takes an unbearably long time as he tries to coax her to take it and keep it down. By the time they're finished her lips are stained purple. Between them and her pale skin she looks like one of the goth girls she refused to tease even when everyone else did. Not all of it got down and a long purple stripe trails from her lips to her chest. He wipes it away with his sleeve but the ghost of it still remains, looking eerily like a bruise.

He forces himself to tear his eyes away and looks up at Jake. He's got his book out again, his fingers flipping the pages as he looks for something and Adam realizes that they are flying blind. It seems wildly unfair that this is what Diana has to depend on. When Melissa was infected with her demon they had Jane and even then one of them died. Now they have only themselves and the hopelessness of the situation is suffocating.

Until, like a miracle, Diana mumbles something and opens her eyes.

When they meet his, Adam has to force himself not to panic. Her eyes are clouded and confused. He can actually see the moment they recognize him and that moment takes a painfully long time to come. For the first time in a very long time Diana doesn't look away and Adam struggles not to get lost in the implications of that. Instead he tries to smile as though they're younger and more innocent and this is nothing more than a cold that has her in a terrible mood and him wondering who the hell thought up shows like Gossip Girl.

"Adam?" she whispers thickly and the confusion in her eyes makes his heart sink.

"Hey," he ays, forcing himself not to crumble, "you got caught by a spell," he explains. She frowns and goes to move but the binding on her wrists makes it impossible, "hold on," he says and reaches up, undoing the knots that bind her wrists. Jake moves to her ankles, leaving her unbound but from the panic in her eyes she's unable to move as well, "we've given you an antidote," he explains, "we're just waiting for it to work."

"I-" she begins and he sees she's trying to sit up, "why-"

"Don't try to move," he tells her and when her eyes begin to drift he quickly says her name to call her attention back to him, "we just have to wait for it to take effect," he says. Fear creeps into her eyes and they move down but he shakes his head, "come on, look at me," he urges, "Diana, look at me."

Her eyes trail back up to him and he counts this as a victory. Diana Meade is the type of girl who insists on watching when a doctor inserts a needle for a blood test, even though they always tell her it will be better if she doesn't look. She easily ignores their recommendation but even after everything that has transpired between them she still listens to him. Adam has never been more grateful for that trust then in this moment, no matter how undeserving of it he is.

"Jake knows the spell," he tells her, glancing up at the witch hunter and trying not to panic at the look in his eyes.

"It hurts," Diana whispers.

"I know," he says, because that is what Diana says whenever she has a cold. He always used to tell himself that he'd call her out on it one day but every time she'd looked even more miserable and the teasing would die on his lips. Now as her purple stained lips part in the only smile she can manage he vows he'll never tease her again.

"Diana," Jake's voice is strained as he calls her name, bending down before the witch can look for him, "you need to stay awake."

She looks at him but there's no comprehension on her face. He might as well be a stranger telling her to fly to the moon by flapping her arms for all that she seems to understand him. The closed off look in Jake's eyes turns desperate, if there is one thing to be said about Diana Meade it is that she knows them, sometimes better than they know themselves. It's always been her way, her gift, to see each of them for what they truly were, even of they did not want to see it themselves. Her brow draws together, it becomes clear that even if she does not know what is wrong she knows something is.

"He's right," Adam says, "I know it hurts but you have to stay awake," he tries to think of how to accomplish this. Talking seems to be hard for her and the last thing he wants to do is cause her more pain.

The others speak up then, trying to keep her attention from the spell, trying to keep her awake. All the words Adam wants to say seem wrong. Diana deserves better than to die with his false reassurances in her ears. It isn't working. The minutes tick by with agonizing slowness and all that seems to happen is the lines on her skin reach further and her eyes struggle to stay open. All too soon the rise of her chest falters and when Adam presses his fingers to her throat the faint flutter takes far too long to find. Then Jake catches his eye and gives a minute shake of his head and Adam sees his world fall apart.

"Listen to me, listen," he begs her and barely recognizes the hysteria in his voice, "you have to keep fighting. I need you to keep fighting."

"I can't," she whispers thickly, "tired."

"I know," he says and ignores the fuzzy edge the world has taken. The last time he cried in front of her she was walking away from him. He refuses to let go this time, "but you have to keep going," he urges, "come on, the Diana I know never gives up."

She looks at him and if she had the strength he thinks she'd cry. There's none of the embarrassed pleasure in her eyes that usually comes when he makes those kind of statements about her. But even if she had the strength he thinks she wouldn't look that way. It hits him like a ton of bricks what she's thinking and suddenly his mouth is paper dry. His hands messily fumble and grab one of hers, his fingers sliding between her digits.

"That's not the same," he says and when her gaze tries to leave his, his other hand grasps her cheek, "that wasn't your fault. I let you go," he feels Cassie's gaze on him but refuses to look her way, "I had to know if my dad was right," Diana's eyes close and panic stabs at him, "he wasn't," the words come out in a rush, with little tact or sense, "he was wrong and I am so sorry that I had to hurt you to find that out. I shouldn't have cared about destiny or any of that crap."

"Adam," she begins, her eyes struggling to stay open but he barrels over her.

"I chose you years ago and I'd choose you again. Fuck destiny, the stars, all that bullshit," he says brazenly, "you have to keep fighting because I need you to see that," he continues, "you have to be okay."

The plea hangs in the air and he thinks one of the other Circle members may be crying. But he can't look and doesn't care. His entire world has narrowed to the single point that is Diana. Her eyes struggle to stay open but they do and wild hope pounds through him. This is just a one off, she's going to be fine. This will be just a story they tell at their wedding, their grand reunion. But then her eyes flutter and something like a shudder seems to go through her and his stomach drops faster than he thought possible when he hears Jake mutter a curse.

"I'm sorry," she whispers finally, her eyes drifting shut once more.

"No, no!" the denial is blind and furious as her face goes slack.

Before anyone else can react he's up on the bed. He pulls her up and braces her against his chest when her eyes fly open at the unexpected agony. The sound that escapes her lips is pure torture and he feels the tears break free and slip unheeded down his cheeks at the knowledge he is responsible for this latest pain. She gasps out something that sounds like his name and he hears the unspoken plea but ignores it. He's selfish, he knows, but the idea of her dying is one he cannot entertain.

"I'm sorry," he gasps through the tears as his hands press to her stomach and her head flies back against his shoulder.

His magic leaps for hers, power easily flowing through the desperate connection he s made with their bodies. The resulting build up of spells implodes around them with a dull boom that sends white hot pain lacing his ears. Whatever enchantment has been done to her leaps forward to catch him in it's embrace and he welcomes it with open arms. It can take him as long as it leaves her. Then, without any warning or sense the potion seems to kick in and suddenly everything slows. Their power seems to move like molasses but the enchantment suffers the same fate.

And then, with a rush, the darkness is pulled out of her.

She doubles over with a desperate sound and he goes with her, supporting her as her head flies forward. His face is buried in the curve of her shoulder as thick purple goo splatters everywhere, but he can hear nothing save for the roaring in his ears. But against his chest, her back is rising and falling deeply as she gasps for air like a drowning victim. He knows his grip on her isn't helping but he cannot bring himself to move as he feels her heart pound.

When he finally forced himself to untangle from her and stand up the world has shifted on its axis. That or gravity has been removed. He staggers over to the nearest chair and collapses onto it. The purple goo is thick and warm where it touched his skin but there is something else coating his neck. He wipes a hand clumsily across the skin and pulls his fingers away to find them streaked with red.

Faye is suddenly in front of him and her lips are moving but it's impossible to hear what she's saying. She turns her head to call for the others but he grabs her wrist and shakes his head as best he can. His injuries are irrelevant, bleeding ears are nothing compared to what Diana has been through. Faye gives him a look that is equal parts pity and exasperation and goes over anyway, returning with Melissa whose mom is a nurse. She looks at his ears and then conjures fire with her fingertips. In glowing letters she tells him he fucked up his ears and needs to go to the emergency room.

Cassie takes Diana home and because his father is already drunk off his ass Jake takes him to the hospital and somehow convinces the Nurses that he belongs there. Three hours later he staggered to the car with bandages on his ears and orders not to get them wet. Which is a shame because Adam would pretty much do anything for a shower, since it seems the purple goo only smells worse when it's dry.

He waves away Jake's offer of help. Things may have gotten much better between them, to the point where Adam could say that he considered the older boy a friend, but he still has his pride. And that pride is less than accepting of the idea that Jake Armstrong is going to help him bathe. Furthermore he has a feeling that across town the lights are still on in the Blake house. Even so Jake doesn't drive away until he closes the door.

Avoiding his father is not a very hard thing to do. By some stroke of luck Ethan Conant is neither an inquisitive nor a suspicious drunk. He isn't a violent one either and Adam has learned that is no small thing. He still glances into the living room to make sure that his father is more or less alive, some small part of him wondering if the putrid smell will permeate the fog of alcohol.

Except that his father is not there.

Panic seizes Adam and adrenaline slams into him as he bolts for the kitchen, his mind going to the sharp edges of the counters and the block of knives. But when he gets to the kitchen, certain he is going to be an orphan, there is no blood or bodies. The only cans of beer are the ones that are neatly piled into a trash bag. Instead of laying in a pool of his own bodily fluid his father is sitting at the kitchen island, his hands wrapped around what smells like coffee and perched on a matching stool is Diana.

She looks exhausted, her skin still pale and her eyes shadowed but when she turns to him he forgets all of that. She's much cleaner than he is but when he crosses the room and pulls her into a rough embrace, her arms wrap around his chest and she buries her face in his shoulder. They stay like that for a long moment, bodies fitting together in a way that they haven't for far too long.

Too quickly, however, she pulls back and steps away. She says something to his father who nods before she grasps his hand and leads him upstairs to the bathroom. She clearly knows what's going on and has come prepared. While he pulls off clothing hardened with goo, she rolls something between her palms before handing him two soft balls of what feels like orange wax. It's only when she motions to her ears that he realizes what he's supposed to do.

She's also brought some kind of industrial strength soap that saves him a layer of skin. Still he races to get clean, certain that when he gets back to his room she's going to be gone. If this is some kind of pity check in before she goes to Holden, Adam thinks he might finally hit the guy. But when he comes into his room Diana is standing by his desk, looking equally unsure of what to do now that they're alone.

She doesn't offer to leave when he walks over to his dresser and pulls out cloths with clumsy fingers and she doesn't turn away when he pulls out an old pair of sweats that she always used to borrow. They change in weary silence, like they've done countless times before. She crawls under his covers first and he follows, turning out the lights as he goes.

He still can't hear but he can feel her chest rise and fall against his hand. His fingers trail across the fabric as she twists towards him. Her lips taste of lingering bitterness but there is the promise of hope as they slat over his. He knows the loss of a sense heightens the others and without sight or hearing everything is touch, taste and smell. She is overwhelming to his senses, consuming everything until he feels like he is drowning in her.

He takes his weight onto his forearms when he pushes into her, mindful of the darkened, tender skin of her stomach. Her fingers trail down his spine, urging him past gentleness. They know each other past sense or reason and half a year apart has done nothing to change that. They've been each other's firsts and grown from those first few tentative touches past embarrassment or hesitation.

Her body arches, pressing against him as he slides a hand underneath her shoulders, his lips firmly against the soft skin of her neck. He keeps moving, unwilling to let the moment end until the feel of her eclipses sense or reason and he follows her over the edge. When they pull apart it's only for her to turn and fit herself against his side. He drifts off with her wrapped around him and dreams of the flowers that scent her shampoo.

She's gone when he wakes.

He gets off school for three days and has to go to the doctor twice. They tell him there's no permanent damage and give him a note for his teachers. His hearing isn't great but he doesn't have to strain to hear. Melissa shows up, stuffs his ears full of green paste and in a flash of heat he's got both a killer excuse for ignoring people and his hearing back. He thanks her quietly and she rolls her eyes, saying her cousin will get over it and that he's crappy at relationships anyway.

By the time he gets to school the rumor mill is in overdrive because apparently Cassie Blake, reputed destroyer of the school's golden couple, showed up to school in a black truck everyone knows belongs to Jake Armstrong. He's almost amused at the pitying looks he gets, at how people are trying to judge his reaction to the news.

He doesn't really care except that Cassie's wearing a frighteningly ugly high necked sweater that swaths most of her upper body in patchwork. And when Faye makes a snide comment Cassie blushes to the roots of her hair. Then Diana breezes by, neck covered in a gauzy scarf that brings out the gold in her hair and Adam almost forgets to breathe. Until Faye smacks him on the shoulder.

"Go after her," she orders, "she's using all my minutes."

Adam looks at her incredulously but Faye just glares right back as through this is somehow all his fault. Grudgingly he can admit that she may be right. Shoulder his messenger bag he heads after her. He catches a flash of gold out of the corner of his eye and follows it to a deserted corridor. It immediately worries him because Diana isn't one to hide out. But as she leans against the wall and closes her eyes he sees that is exactly what she's doing,

"Hey," he says, drawing her eyed towards him.

"Adam," she straightens up but doesn't give an excuse to leave, "I didn't think you'd be back yet."

Her voice is clear and strong, such a far cry from the thick, gravely whisper that the last little piece of him which held out that she wouldn't

be alright finally gives up. He stamps down the grin that threatens his lips and nods instead.

"The doctor says I should sit in the front to hear. But after Melissa came over last night everything's fine."

"That's great," she says and there's no malice in her words, "You probably should still sit up there though, just in case," she adds.

He nods and their stilted conversation suffocates in the awkward silence that stretches between them. He knows that even if what they did the other night was beautiful and perfect and every other cheesy cliche he can think of, he's still turned her into what she always feared he'd be with Cassie. He's made her force Holden to feel what she feared. Because the scarf is pretty but they both know it's a thin veil, and everyone knows it's his lips that have left the mark on her skin.

"Listen," they both say at the same time.

The smiles they give each other are polite, cordial even. They are not the smiles that Adam thinks they should share. She reaches up a tucks a strand of hair behind her ears, opening her mouth to say something but he knows it's probably to tell him to go first. So he does.

"About what I said," he begins.

"We thought I was dying," she says and he cannot bring himself to point out that it was more than a thought, "you don't have to explain what you said."

"I meant every word," he tells her and tries not to cringe when her head flies up and shock is written on her face,"and the only thing I have to explain is why it took me so long to say it," he continues, "but I can't."

"Adam," she sighs his name, "you and Cassie-"

"Look I don't care about destiny-" he begins, knowing where the conversation is going.

"I do!" she says, silencing him, "God, Adam, why do you think I let you go?" she asks, "you and Cassie have a destiny together and I can't just be some kind of pit stop on the way to that."

"Diana I would never do that to you," he says.

"I know you wouldn't," she replies looking at him, "but I couldn't watch you fall in love with another girl and try to save what was left of us. And maybe it was selfish of me to make that decision for both of us but someone had to."

"It shouldn't have come to that," he says.

She nods. It shouldn't have. He should have been enough of a man to see what was going on and talked to her before she could come to the conclusion herself. He cannot find it in himself to be mad at her for making the choice, for letting him go to try and save them both some misery. He senses the weight of what he is about to say, he knows the opportunity may not come again. He tries to choose his words carefully, to make them meaningful and convincing.

"I miss you," comes out instead. Her eyebrow raises in an incredulous look and he barrels on, "i tried to go after my 'destiny,'" he continues and tries not to wince at the bitterness the word leaves in his mouth, "and I realized that I'd rather spend the rest of my life fighting to be with you."

Her eyes widen, lips parting in surprise and he steps forward, closing some of the distance between them. Her head tilts to accommodate the feeble height difference between them and somewhere in the back of his mind he's glad she wore tennis shoes today instead of heels.

"I just can't fight alone," he confesses.

And just like that it's all out in the open. He isn't offering pretty lies or illusions, the honesty is cruel in it's sharpness. He can't offer her the simple joy that Holden can and he knows his father's warning will be a cruel torment for a very long time. If letting him go before they both got hurt was her act of selfishness, then certainly this is his. But it has always been there way, one moving and the other following. Distance established and then erased.

Then beautiful, rational, we'll-talk-this-out-like-grown-ups Diana leans up and crushes her lips to his. He presses her to the wall, his lips parting hers. She wraps her arms around him, pulls her to him as if they're going to fuck in the deserted hallway. Things aren't going to get that far but it doesn't stop him from ripping the scarf from her neck and sealing his lips over the soft skin it hides.

"This is crazy," she gasps out.

"Don't care," he growls.

"Adam," she pants out his name and moves her neck to look at him, "you have to be sure," she says and the fear in her eyes makes him stop, "I want to-," she begins, "but you have to be sure. I can't watch you fall in love with someone else."

"Neither can I," he tells her. She looks confused and he all but rolls his eyes, "I've spent the past six months plotting to kill Holden."

"What?" she says and though she tries to looks surprised he can see the smile that curves her lips and realizes that some small part of her has been hoping for this as well.

That gives him a boost of confidence and he returns the look, causing her flushed cheeks to darken and her head to dip. He cups her cheek and guides her face back to his, sealing their lips together.

When she draws back and meets his gaze, for the first time in six months, he feels like he's home.

* * *

**Okay so expect some Cassie/Jake soon. **


End file.
